Bofbanoff- I hope you like it, thank you for the pimp's at twop too!

Christine- lol, I should have figured it was you on twop. What's the website you pimp at? Email it to me.

Princess Oats – Please I could never hate you, but I will if you don't update that story of yours!!! Heh, your ramblings, I told you before, I don't mind…

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I'd ask you about love, you'd probably quote me a sonnet. But you've never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. Known someone that could level you with her eyes, feeling like God put an angel on earth just for you. Who could rescue you from the depths of hell. And you wouldn't know what it's like to be her angel, to have that love for her, be there forever, through anything, through cancer. And you wouldn't know about sleeping sitting up in the hospital room for two months, holding her hand, because the doctors could see in your eyes, that the terms "visiting hours" don't apply to you. You don't know about real loss, 'cause it only occurs when you've loved something more than you love yourself.

-Sean Maguire, Good Will Hunting.

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Ryan rolled over on his bed and sighed in frustration. His covers and sheets were tangled with his legs. Sleep was not coming easy tonight.

Nothing, it seemed lately, was coming easy.

School was simply put: a bitch. He had mounds and mounds of homework and assignments due. Soccer was thankfully over and now he could rush home and be of use. He hated that term. Of use. That was the only way to put it, the only way to describe how he felt. He just wanted to help her. He could see how much weaker she was getting, how the dark circles underneath her eyes were no longer hidden under makeup. The weariness, the hoarseness of her voice, her eyes were mostly listless now, but occasionally they would spark with laughter when she was having a good day. The rest of her body was thin but her stomach bulged under the baby's weight.

Kirsten's health seemed to just be deteriorating and he couldn't count how many times lately he held a bucket or a wastebasket in front of her because the chemo was making her violently sick, and Sandy wasn't there. Though he wasn't exactly sure whether it was just the chemo to blame. She was sick before this too, and he suspected it was a mixture of the cancer, the chemo, and the hormones all put together. Ryan couldn't even imagine how she felt. He only had a slight inkling by the way pain fluttered across her face and into her storytelling eyes.

Kirsten's eyes always gave her away, even when she claimed she was "Just fine."

When she was finished she would ask him quietly not to tell Sandy and he always told her he wouldn't. Because deep down she knew how hard Sandy was taking this and she didn't want to add to his pain and grief.

Her going to work had become half days and then eventually with the chemo she didn't bother going, because she was either to tired, or too sick to do so. Julie understood. She would visit Kirsten at home, and they would go over plans, or ideas, and work around the scheme of things. Julie had turned into a patient, understanding woman, how that happened Ryan didn't know. But he would watch them from the kitchen when he was doing homework of his own, Julie was trying her best for Kirsten to be involved at the company she had run for so long. She was trying for Kirsten to have a sense of normalcy, a chance even if just for a few moments, to forget about the pain and the cancer. Ryan was thankful for that and he would always walk Julie to the door to say goodnight, and to say thank you. Sometimes Julie would only nod her head, other times she allowed herself to hug the boy that was doing what he could. He could sense Julie's discomfort and her grief as well, and sometimes when he watched her leave, he saw that she would run her hand across her cheek to stop the tears.

Kirsten spent a lot of time on the couch lately and sometimes when he came home he would walk over and put another blanket over her shivering body. Sometimes she would mumble her thanks, and sometimes she was sleeping.

His thoughts turned to Seth who had become oddly quiet lately, no more ramblings on comic books, no more "Let's go see the latest IMAX movie." Hell, Seth didn't even ramble about Summer anymore, even though she was over their house on a daily basis too. His normal rambling brother had become a walking zombie as of late. He ate food. He watched his mom. He laughed when he needed to, he smiled when he needed to. He bid them goodnight, like normal. Then he just walked to his room. There was no music blaring from his room, no more searching of the Internet, he just sat in his bedroom in the dark. On occasion Ryan would pass by there and hear the muffled sobs.

Sandy was a wreck but he managed to put a strong front on for everyone. More than once Ryan had passed by him and caught his white knuckled grip on the counter and heard a small sniffle or a cough as if he was trying to hide the fact that he was grieving and miserable.

Sometimes Ryan didn't know what to do.

Other times he would pass by him and pat his shoulder in a silent understanding. Sometimes he would stay until the older man nodded his head and other times it killed him to see the man he regarded as a father hurting so bad, and he would flee quickly as not to lose his own composure.

He knew that Sandy was taking it the hardest of all. Sometimes he spent late nights at the office, Ryan knew he didn't want to, he just didn't want to show how bad he was hurting, and it was his place to grieve without an audience.

Because maybe Sandy feared if he did that, if he was showing exactly how hard he was taking this, it would just upset Kirsten, and no one wanted that.

He shook his head in a silent attempt to rid himself of the thoughts. He was thirsty and remembered that he drank everything in the mini-fridge and would have to go into the house to get it.

It was a cool night in California, and Ryan glanced back at the ocean with its sliver of the moon dancing upon its darkened midnight waters. 'Such a view,', he thought.

He quietly stepped into the house, shutting the glass door behind him almost silently, rubbing his arms to ward off the chill the night air had given him.

His bare feet padded across the floor as he headed for the refrigerator not seeing her sitting at the table, watching him.

"You shouldn't walk with bare feet, you'll get sick Ryan," her voice was hoarse, but gentle and teasing.

He pulled back from the fridge quickly and almost dropped his bottle of water. She had a blanket up around her shoulders and her hands were trembling as she tried to get the cup of tea to her lips without spilling it.

"Can't sleep?" He asked pulling out a chair and sitting down.

She smirked in the moonlight. "I can't sleep, she can't sleep, Sandy can't sleep, you can't sleep…I wonder if Seth's even asleep?"

Ryan gave her a soft smile and she reached out for his hand, hers trembling as it grasped his. "Seth could sleep through a freight train, I'm sure of it," he replied with a small chuckle, not telling her his secret that Seth was probably crying upstairs. She smiled at the thought before she coughed deeply and one handedly wrapped the blanket around her tightly, as her body shook.

His look was worried and concerned, "You should go lay down."

She looked amused, "And you should be in bed."

He chuckled, "I'm not the one…" he could hear Kirsten suck in her breath as she waited for his words.

Not the one what?

Not the one dying?

"Not the one, who is shivering," he said slowly, thinking his words through.

She smiled at him, a most grateful smile but she didn't budge.

"Kirsten. Please?" He pleaded with her. Sandy would kill him if he didn't get her to lie down.

She resigned with a sigh and allowed for him to come over to her side of the table and wrap a steady arm around her shaking body. This is how weak she had become, the old Kirsten would refuse his help, this one plain and simply, needed it.

He led her to the couch, noticing that she leaned on him for support and he knew if he let go just a tiny bit she would most likely stumble and fall.

He watched as she got settled onto the couch and he held the blanket out until she was comfortable, before placing it over her and then sitting down on the floor next to her. "Ryan, honey," she started to protest weakly but he silenced her with a look that said I'm-not-going-anywhere-and-you-can't-make-me.

She reached back and pulled down another blanket, somehow managing to throw it over him. "Fine, if you're staying, I'm ….not… letting ….you freeze…" a wrack of shivers erupted and she couldn't stop her teeth from chattering.

A small frown grazed his face and he reached up to take her hand, wanting to comfort her. Another tremble erupted and her grip was tight until it passed.

There was an unspoken thank you in her eyes as her body trembled again and he watched as she closed them, the fatigue starting to take over. Even the baby had sensed her mother's tiredness and was calm for the first time that night.

He somehow managed to find a comfortable position and held her hand throughout the night.

"Love you Kirsten," he whispered softly, surprising himself, blushing as he realized he said it out loud.

She spoke in a barely audible, hoarse whisper, "Oh Ryan, I love you too."

He didn't say anything afterwards, just squeezed her hand again because the lump in his throat had risen and he felt tears in his eyes. Why was it that every time he gained something or someone, he always had to lose them?

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The following day Julie stopped by with a few plans and Kirsten's advice. She was in a jam, which she wasn't surprised as she had a knack for doing so. She shut the car door and walked briskly up the steps and let herself in.

The main house was well lit and from her perch on the steps she glanced out to see the beautiful view of the ocean. She always loved this house, and the view.

Walking down she glanced around the empty house and paused, listening.

"Kirsten?"

She heard the sounds of retching down the hall. Quickly, she dropped the files on the end table, took off her heels and hastily made way for the bathroom.

She heard Kirsten whispering to herself, "I'm okay, I'm okay…" as though she was trying to convince her slowly failing body that she was indeed okay.

Julie felt a pang, she should have been here earlier. In fact she should be here more often. How many times did she do this alone? How many times did she try to convince herself she was okay, when deep in her mind she knew she wasn't?

She heard the toilet flush and Julie peeked in the door to find her curled up, leaning against the tub, both her hands on her very round stomach.

"I can't even begin to tell you how many times I held that position with Marissa," Julie joked.

Kirsten managed a small smile, "I was okay, and then-"

But Julie held up her hand and shook her head. "Trust me, you don't need to explain, been there, done that!" She glanced around, "You know Kiki, you should really have this repainted if you spend so much time in here, it's kind of bland."

Kirsten shook her head managing a small smile, trembling slightly. "I've actually put thought into it."

Julie grinned, anything to ease her newfound friend's pain. "Are you okay? Do you want anything? Water? Crackers? Percocets?" She asked as she hunched down to her level easing against a cabinet, ready to ride through the worst of the storm, that from her evidently pale features had yet to come.

She looked at Julie, her dull, glassy, pain-bearing blue eyes met the fierce vibrant, cool blues of Julie Cooper's. "I want to get better. I want this to end. I want to live and see my daughter grow up. I want to watch her play with her Daddy. I want to see a smile on my husband's face again. I want to watch Seth and Ryan playfully toss her into the pool, I want to see them happy…. That's all I want…. And some wine, I could really go for a good glass of wine," she sighed.

Julie didn't exactly have a response to the small ramble that rendered her speechless, so she bit her lip and looked at her, nodding. What could she say to that?

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Later in the day Sandy came home from work and for once he wasn't surprised to see Julie Cooper there. Ryan had filled him in that she had been stopping by and he was grateful for that as well. Jimmy had called him earlier, asking if he wanted to get lunch and Sandy had politely said "No."

But since Julie was here, he didn't have to worry so much. He went over to sit with his pregnant wife as Julie busied herself around the kitchen making lunch for herself and Kirsten.

"Honestly Kiki, where's Rosa? Isn't this her job?" Sandy grinned as they heard her mumble and bitch about making her own food.

"I'm going to go meet Jimmy for lunch, okay?" His voice was low and deep and all she wanted to do was to curl in his arms and sleep.

"Sure. Say hi to him for me."

He leaned up and kissed her on the forehead relieved that it was cool, "I love you," he said with a smile.

"Love you too," she whispered back as Julie came in with their lunch.

He waved as he headed out the door and Julie took a bite of her sandwich. "I'll have to run this by Caleb of course, but, I think it might work."

Kirsten knew that running it by Caleb would put Julie on his good side.

"How is he? My dad?"

Julie stopped chewing and gave her a cool stare. "Still a bastard, like always. I kicked him out of our room when I found out what he said to you, and about Sandy," she resumed her chewing and thumbed through the paper work.

Kirsten flushed at the fact that she knew he had called her baby a bastard child.

She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow "He does ask me how you're doing though."

It was Kirsten's turn to raise her eyebrows in response to both of Julie's answers. "Wow."

"Mmm Hmm, no sex for me."

Kirsten winced and held her hand up, "Thank for sharing, Julie, but I didn't need to know that."

Julie couldn't help but smile.

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"Does it hurt?"

Kirsten looked up sharply to Julie's unfaltering gaze and the question that came from nowhere.

"What?" She asked, making sure she actually heard her correctly.

Julie gave a slight roll of her eyes. "Does it hurt?" Her voice was softer now, questioning.

Kirsten swallowed, her sore throat was beginning to return again. "All the time. Constantly."

Julie dropped her eyes to her hand. "I'm sorry – I shouldn't have asked."

"No Julie, it's okay, really…actually it's kind of nice."

"I don't follow?" She said, waving her pen in the air.

"There's no one else I can talk about this to, the pain, I mean."

Julie nodded her head and gave her a smile, resuming her work. She would keep Kirsten's secrets safe.

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Seth bounded in the door excited because he had gotten a new release before they were sold out at the video store. He knew someone in his household had mentioned they wanted to see it, and right now Seth just wanted to please. He thought it might have been his Mom that said something about it.

"Hey Mom?" He called, dropping his book bag near the door and he knew his Dad would probably stumble over it and chastise him later.

He didn't call her name again, instead walked softly to where he heard the ruffling of papers in his father's office.

He paused in the doorway, his mother bent over papers with a pen, occasionally signing her name. "Hey Mom," he whispered softly and she looked up at him.

"Hey sweetie," she said with a small smile, glancing back down to what she was signing.

He crossed over to her more quickly than he intended and glanced at the paperwork. "I got that movie you…"

He stopped as he read 'Burial Options,' and froze, looking at her like a deer caught in the headlights.

He didn't know what to say, he didn't even know what to think and he could tell she didn't know either.

She knew he read it. She had yet to raise her head and meet his eyes because she knew the pain that would be in them. Her pen rested on the paper and yet he still stood there as if he was looking for an explanation.

"Seth," her voice was tense and raspy, "You're not supposed to see these. Your father doesn't even know they exist."

"Why?" He was ten years old again, wanting that toy in the store that his Dad wouldn't let him have.

"Just in case Seth…. So your father doesn't have to…."

"But…" he sputtered at a loss for words.

She held up her hand, "Seth, sweetie, stop, I'm not leaving you guys."

It was easy for her to say it, but not believe it. She just wanted to be prepared, she almost had everything taken care of, because she knew Sandy wouldn't be able to do it.

She opened a cabinet, tucking the files in the unmarked folder she had there and slowly rose, as Seth held out his hand to help her.

"So what movie did you get me?"

Seth's excitement had left and his voice was monotonous as they walked out of the room.

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Seth lay awake that night, he had opened his window and on occasion a cool breeze would blow in his room, ruffling the blinds and curtains. If he listened he could hear the sound of the ocean waves lapping at the beach as the wind carried them to his room.

He knew he had to come to terms with his mother's condition, not that he hadn't already to a certain level, but like actual terms of her dying. Her no longer being here anymore, would be the actual terms and he wasn't ready to face that just yet.

He didn't understand exactly what made him so upset. He knew this was coming, he knew it. He knew he would have to see this at some point or hear about it. Yet in Seth's world it was easy to pretend things might be okay, they just might work out. He still held on to that childlike hope when everyone else around him didn't.

Maybe it was just the way she looked when she had signed the last page, the look of relief, or maybe her look of final acceptance, like a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders and now all she had to do was wait. He wasn't stupid, he knew the five stages of dying and the order they went in.

Denial,

Anger,

Bargaining,

Depression,

Acceptance.

He hoped she wasn't at acceptance yet, he prayed she was still at anger, still willing to fight. He knew she was, she had to be, for she was his mother. His mother always fought, whether with his Dad, her own father, Julie Cooper, even him. She challenged everything, wouldn't she challenge her own death?

He sighed and rolled over looking at the plastic horse's steady stare. "Yeah, I don't know what to do."

He could still play pretend and get excited over movie night like he had been doing, he could go downstairs and play the playstation, yelling at Ryan when he won triumphantly. He could continue his façade.

It was getting to be so damn difficult.

He flopped over on his back again, shrugging the covers down by his waist.

What would his father do? The thought entered his mind startling him. Seth knew he would have his father to lean on, but his father would have no one. He could only imagine how that would go, and who knows his Dad might not even be able to cope, he might slip into depression or worse…He shrugged the thought away.

He sighed again, his eyes tearing up as he thought of his mother dying. He rolled over on his other side and faced the wall.

"Stop it," he whispered to himself. "Stop. Just stop thinking that. Stop being such a baby."

He bit his bottom lip and decided for a small plea. "Dear God, if you can hear me, can you do me a favor? Can you save my Mom? Please? Can you make her better? I'm not ready to let her go. None of us are…I haven't, we haven't…. We haven't had enough time…. It's not fair…. It's so not fair," Seth's whispers became audible sobs as his thoughts consumed him in the early morning darkness. "Not fair…"

Somehow he could see God shaking his finger at him and saying something along the lines of, "What? I've given you seventeen year's," and sadly shaking his head.

His door opened as his father stepped in the room, but Seth didn't see. He stiffened as he felt his bed sag under someone's weight and he knew who it was.

"Hey buddy," his father's voice was soothing, so soothing.

He didn't acknowledge him, only stopped his sobs from being so loud, and continued crying to himself, his shoulders and body shaking, too far along to stop completely.

His father frowned in the darkness but Seth didn't see it. He felt his hands come to rest upon his shoulder and give a gentle squeeze and that made him cry even harder. There was nothing his Dad could do, there was nothing Ryan could do, or Summer. There was nothing anyone could do for him. His mother was dying, the one person who would be on her knees waiting for him to come home from school and as soon as he walked in the door and she would scoop him into a huge hug and beg him to tell her about his day. She was the one person who would sneak in his room if his father scolded him making it all okay, and she would buy him all the little action figures he wanted when they were at the store.

He knew his now silent sobs were hurting his father and he felt his Dad shift on his bed and lean against the headboard as hesomehow managed to pull him into a backward hug.

Seth's shaking back rested against his father's broad chest and for a moment he froze, slightly embarrassed, but then he realized he didn't care, this was his Dad.

"Son, It's okay to cry…" his father's voice pressed into his hair as he tightened his grip.

Seth shook. "It's not fair," he whispered wiping angrily at the tears, yet thankful for his father's presence. Somehow him being here made it just a little easier.

Seth could feel him frown against his hair, "I know Seth, I know…"

His body continued to shake and he buried his face into the security of his father's shoulder, his tears wetting the shirt he was wearing. His hand fumbled with his Dads and he grabbed hold of it tightly, wrapping his slender fingers around his father's larger ones, just like he used to do when he was little.

"I know…" He kept whispering that to him, his little mantra over and over again, and his Dad's voice was so low and deep.

"Can you…. Stay? Stay til' I fall asleep?" He felt dumb for asking but he didn't want him to leave yet.

He could feel a smile being pressed into his hair, "Of course son, of course."

Seth squeezed his hand in his thanks, and took comfort in the fact that his father was there.

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